


Psychosis

by TheMulletWhisperer



Series: To The Stars - Alternate Universes [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Dark, F/M, Gore, Hallucinations, Implied Torture, Psychosis, Thanks for inspiring this ImDex, Yeah this got really dark, You terrible person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If a coin comes down heads, that means that the possibility of its coming down tails has collapsed. Until that moment the two possibilities were equal.<br/>But on another world, it does come down tails. And when that happens, the two worlds split apart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychosis

**Author's Note:**

> *Lays head on desk* I need to not with these things. Blame ImDex. I'm going to go beat my head on a wall for a while now.

With a groan, Galina awoke in her bed. Not her bed, somebody else’s bed. It was old, creaked when she moved and the opposite side had collapsed. Her house looked the same--or relatively so, with the cobwebs hanging in the corners and the musty smell about the bedroom. Oddly enough, she could see rather well through the suffocating darkness, as if she was used to it. There wasn’t much worth seeing, however, as the shack was devoid of decor, any lightheartedness. The only thing she took note of was the large cluster of charcoal sketchings on the far wall.

Rolling off the bed and wincing at the deafening creak, she met the floor with her bare feet. That was a mistake. The floorboards were coarse and absolutely freezing, as if someone had made them out of ice. She certainly wasn’t in Falkreath, though for that matter she didn’t really know  _ where _ she was. All the windows were boarded densely so that no light seeped through.

Disregarding her surroundings and the overall temperature, she approached the wall of drawings, looking over the detailed features. Every face was the same, but held a different expression, happy, sad, laughing, angry...and it was a face she knew from somewhere in her mind. It was obviously an Altmer, and quite the young one at that. A goatee, long hair, smaller-than-average eyes…

“Arkved.” As she spoke, her voice was far more high-pitched than she’d remembered it being, though at the same time it felt normal. She raised her voice, realizing the Altmer wasn’t around to cause the confusion she felt, for once, “Arkved, are you there?!” Silence. 

Turning away from the wall of art, Galina walked out into the den, which was just as dark as the bedroom, with just about as much decor. One solitary, rickety chair sat in front of a cold fireplace--though with a light from somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint, both the chair and the floor around it glistened with something wet, something she couldn’t quite place. However, as she drew nearer, the coppery smell gave it away. Blood, both fresh and old. 

As she reached out to touch it, the Nord paused for a long time, looking up and down her arm, which was lined with symmetrical scars and cuts, new and old, just like the blood. Something was very, very wrong, and the best thing she could do right now was get out of the place as quickly as she could.  
By now she’d realized that her regular clothing wasn’t with her, and instead she was wearing a filthy, thick jacket with a letter monogrammed on the front, a pair of dark brown trousers, and a laced shirt with no shoes beneath, although it felt perfectly normal to her and she gave it no second thought. Upon reaching the door. She pushed and pulled, though it didn’t budge. Somewhere through the dark, she could make out a bolt that was presumably opened from the outside. 

“Trapped…” Her heart began to race and her breath picked up, and she began rushing around the house, tugging on the boarded windows and trying desperately to find  _ some _ way out, pulling at floorboards, punching walls, anything she could think of. “Trapped trapped trapped!” For some reason she couldn’t stop repeating those words, loudly enough to alert anyone and anything outside. 

All at once, she noticed a door on the opposite side of the room, which she flung herself at with enough force to knock right off its hinges.

Inside was something she wasn’t expecting to see.

From the ceilings hung the badly-decayed corpses clad in Thalmor robes and armor, suspended by their ankles. Flies buzzed around them, likely attracted to the smell, but she couldn’t smell anything off. On the tables were mounted heads, hands, feet, and any other imaginable part of the Merish body that one could identify, though most prominently were the ears. On the far side of the room was a head with its own table, several more drawings of more contorted faces hung around it, each the spitting image of the well-preserved head. On front of it was scratched the name, “Arkved”. 

All came back to her that moment, she’d begun seeing things. The Embassy, all those dead Thalmor, the blood, the gore...it was just a hit, one clean hit of many. And she...she was Galina, infamous killer of Altmer from all walks, never caught, never exposed. She was in her safehouse, riding out the tension of her last slaughter, the last high. Arkved, she never knew, another Altmer she’d killed...gods, it’d felt so horrible, he was so scared, he didn’t put up a fight but she was too deep to pull herself out. Just like the others, he was dead, she’d so heartlessly killed him. 

And Richton, the bastard, he was her little pet, letting her off her leash to make him some money before beating her and throwing her back into the little hovel he’d prepared for her, covered in blood with no way to wash it off. Her hair was caked to her head, she hadn’t bathed in months. Richton...he…

“Gods, you fucking degenerate, have some dignity. Stand up and stop embarrassing yourself.” He was standing right behind her. He was the only thing keeping her out of the hands of the Thalmor, the only thing keeping her alive...but she didn’t care. She wanted to die, there was no more point. She’d seen what life could’ve been like, and this wasn’t life, this was torture, no better than an animal. 

His hand on her shoulder was what set her off for good. Springing up, she pounced the unsuspecting contractor, clawing gashes across his face with untrimmed nails. Although he tried to fight back, she didn’t pay any attention, curling her fingers into fists and punching, punching, punching, splattering the floor with blood. 

Galina lost track of how long she’d spent punching him, but there wasn’t much left once she was done, only something that used to be his head. Pushing to her feet, she turned around and entered her trophy room again, taking Arkved’s head and running her thumb across his cheek as a single tear dropped onto his forehead. “My love.” She whispered, still clutching the head in her hand as she stepped over the mutilated corpse of her ‘handler’ and exited into the cold, gently kissing his dead lips.

 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

With a groan, Galina awoke in her bed. From behind her, she could feel the heat of Arkved pressed up against her back, coupled with the soft warmth of Falkreath accompanying the ribbons of sunlight through her bedroom window. 

Rolling over onto her back groggily, she smiled at the Altmer, who ran his fingers down her cheek. Evidently, he’d been awake for a while judging by how he didn’t look drunk. “Good morning, beautiful. I thought you’d never wake up.”   


Simply smiling at how smooth his line was compared to how he usually spoke, she kissed him on the cheek, burying her face in the juncture between his neck and collarbone. “Mmm...you tired me out pretty good last night.”

“I take it that means you’re hungry, then?”

Giving a small chuckle, she nodded, lying back on the bed. “Yeah, damn hungry.”

With that answer, Arkved slid out of bed and headed for the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I won’t burn anything down or make any cakes this time!” He called behind him as he tossed the coal into the oven.

Smiling up at the ceiling, Galina rested her head on the pillow and ran fingers through her silky hair.

Just like every morning, every afternoon and night, everything was right in her universe.


End file.
